Revived
by BlueBird130
Summary: When Jason Todd died, Ra's al Ghul dipped him into the Lazarus Pit in an attempt to bring him back from the dead. It worked, but not completely. Rated M for Jason's swearing.
1. Confusion

**New story! So, you all know (I would think so) about how Jason was killed by the Joker and then Ra's al Ghul revived him in the Lazarus Pit. WELL, because absolutely no one (I mean a lot of people) has written that from Jason and the fam's POV, I'm gonna do it! It may not be** _ **exactly**_ **accurate, but it doesn't have to be 100% exact. Shut up, you know what I mean -_- By the way, this will be rated M because of Jason and his swearing. Okay, I hope you all enjoy!**

Darkness.

Darkness everywhere.

There was nothing.

No sound.

No light.

. . . No life.

And then, there _was_ something.

A small light, a pinprick of hope. It grew, and grew and grew, until everything was white. Pure, blinding light that left nothing untouched in its wave of brightness.

Then the pain ripped through Jason's still body, it caused his immobile body to shake and quiver. His arms twitched and suddenly, violently moved throughout the water he now was aware of. It felt as if his body was set on fire, fire blazing throughout his shaking body. He was incapable of forming a thought, all he knew was pain, ripping, tearing pain. He felt his body rebelliously start seizing, his head slamming against his chest as his body swished through the water, the water he couldn't see. His eyes were like lead, unable to open them.

 _Crack!_

He shot out of the water, his eyes opening with a jolt. Nothing but incomprehensible nonsense was going through his head, as his shaking knees clacked together. His eyes flashed around at the people watching him, feeling like cornered prey as he turned in a circle frantically.

He heard voices, but to him it sounded like animalistic chattering that he couldn't decipher. His mind was running in circles, unable to finish one complete thought, the only thing he understood was: _scared._ Jason's legs started moving by themselves, and he sprinted into a part in the crowd of people surrounding him. As he ran, he barely noticed the trail of old bandages he was leaving behind, they were falling off his body, leaving him partially covered. His feet slapped against the smooth, cold stone as he ran away from the pit of glowing liquid.

The stone quickly changed into jagged pieces of rock piercing his soft feet. He got to the end of the path, and found himself at the end of a cliff. His mind was barely functioning, only knowing the barest of commands. _Run, hide, fight, run, hide, fight, run, hide, fight._ When he heard the voices behind him, screaming and shrieking at him, his heart picked up the inconsistent pace. _Fight or flight_. His eyes flickered back and forth, from the men gaining distance, to the swirling and churning sea below him. He only had one choice.

Jump.

The black waters came to meet him, his body making a large smacking noise when it hit. His mind was cleared a bit when the cold water shocked his confused system, and he struggled to the surface. Teeth chattering, Jason took a shaky breath of cool, night air and looked around, still barely comprehending what had happened. All he knew was that he hurt, and that the cold, painful water wasn't making him feel any better. The night was black, and the stars and moon barely stood out from the thick heavy clouds, providing the confused and scared boy no light.

A wave knocked his head back under the water, and the cold, salty sea rushed into his mouth, flooding his lungs. Coughing and spluttering, his head broke the surface and his Lazarus-addled mind panicked, sending his body into a scared frenzy. His limbs kicked around, and his form went under the waves again, sucking in more water.

His crazed mind seemed to become aware that Jason was dying, again, and it managed to focus on one task: getting to land. Without a second thought, his arms and legs began kicking and swimming on their own, moving to some unknown location. He swam like this, numb, for an uncertain amount of time, before his feet touched sandy and rocky ground. Stumbling onto the beach, Jason collapsed on the ground, panting as his chest rose and fell unevenly. His mind was still racing, but it was a bit clearer then when he first became, well…. alive again.

The sound of crunching boots on sand approached him, his body still lying on the floor, shaking in fear, exhaustion, and uncontrollable rage.

"Well, well, well. What's this? A little boy has washed up on _my beach_." A voice sneered.

Jason wobbly raised his head, his eyes narrowing as he saw a drunken, staggering man bending down to his eye level. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a roar as he lunged to his knees and stumbled to face the man. He found his hands wrapped around the man's neck, tightening his grip by the second, enjoying watching the man's eyes widen in fear as his throat constricted. The man let out a pained gasp, the only noise he was currently capable of, and Jason's fingers squeezed harder and harder. There was a crunching noise and the man went limp, falling against the sand. Jason took a few shaky steps backwards.

He couldn't comprehend what just happened.

What he just _did_. He looked down at his hands, red from gripping the man's throat so hard. Collapsing to his knees the shattered boy let out a wail, he was shocked, scared, and most of all worried. He _enjoyed_ killing that man, he felt a strong surge of joy when he saw the lights go out of his eyes, and he could do it again.

Bruce.

The word flickered through his mind, shocking himself out of the self pity.

Bruce.

It all came flooding back to him, flooding back like the waves lapping against his legs.

Bruce and Dick. Batman and Nightwing. Robin. Jason Todd. That's _him._

He was Jason.

 _HE DIED._

He can suddenly remember the crowbar slamming into him, over and over again. The sound of bones breaking, his bone. His scream ripping from his throat as the beating continued, his silent scream as he watched the timer count down. The swift flare of light, and fire tearing through his body, and his body _dying._

His head shot up with realization and what had happened. Someone, some _bastard_ had resurrected him, with some sick voodoo magic. But, he could tell that he wasn't whole, he wasn't normal. The thing that tipped him off was the thirst, the thirst to kill, to see the light behind someone's eyes go out as they experienced death. He wasn't normal…

 _Oh, God… Bruce… what does he think….._

 **Ooooooh. Okay, I'm super excited to write this. I know, this was a short chapter but I didn't have a lot of time. Sweat Jesus, the amount of sentence fragments that were in this chapter, my autocorrect hates me! I'm visiting my great grandmother this weekend, and I'm planning on binge watching the… NEW SEASON OF VOLTRON LEGENDARY DEFENDERS! WOOOHOOO! Yes. I'm aware that it was originally designed for nine year old boys. But, I love it. K, that's it for now. PM me if you have questions or comments, or just leave a review. Buh-bye!**


	2. Promise

" _Where is my son_?!"

Batman stormed into Nanda Parbat, his deep voice echoing through the halls. The assassins turned and readied their weapons, getting into a synchronized fighting stance.

"I will repeat it _one more time_. Where is MY SON?!" His voice roared through the old cave side castle, and he started to run up the stairs, a threatening look in his eyes.

The army of ninjas moved toward him, but the voice of Ra's al Ghul made them freeze in their spots.

He called out a command in their native tongue, then turned to the enraged Batman," Hello, Detective; follow me if you wish to get information about your son."

 ********************Time Break***********************

"You did _what_?"

"I brought your son back from the land of the dead, Detective. I believe you should be thanking me." The Demon's Head said, with a blank look on his face.

Bruce seemed to take this in for a few seconds, and then frantically turned to the leader of the assassins," Where is he now?" There was a low growl in his voice."

"Are you sure you want to know what happened?"

The father glared at Ra's," I'm pretty sure I want to know what happened to my own son. Now tell me." He was clearly getting irritated at this game the he was playing.

"He returned from the pit with his mind damaged. He was deranged, and acted unlike a sane human being should. The last we saw of him was when he threw himself off of the cliff, screaming like a wild animal." Ra's said, not looking the least bit bothered by what he said happened.

"Which cliff?"

"Over there." The older man gestured to the far side of the room, and allowed the black clad figure to go look around freely.

Thousands of thoughts were rushing around Bruce's head, his brow furrowing as he walked over to the cliff he had been told about. He got to one knee and inspected the ground that led to the drop, noticing how it had recently been disturbed. The footprints that were left looked like Jason's size feet, and some of the rocks had blood stains on them, so he was barefoot and scraped his feet running.

With a sigh, Bruce stood up and walked back inside. He approached Ra's al Ghul, who was giving him expressionless look," I'm leaving, and if a single one of your assassins tries to stop me I will personally put all of them out of commission. You did this to Jason, it's _your_ fault. Don't ever come near my family ever again!" His voice morphed into a fierce growl and he stormed out of the room.

When the shut door swung open loudly, and Batman charged out, three assassins reacted immediately. They drew their swords and attacked him, which only infuriated him more. His armored arm came up to block one of the swords and he delivered a swift kick to the man behind it. The other two attacked in a similar fashion, and Bruce took them all down, his screams of rage echoing against the walls.

He stormed through Nanda Parbat, taking down any who stood in his path. There was a flight of stairs left before the Batman was home free; his back was turned when a blade drove itself into his shoulder. Normally, his reflexes would have told him that someone was behind him, but rage was dulling his mind. When the sword pierced his armor he spun around and brought his elbow down, quickly breaking the man's arm. He started running toward his Bat Plane, his good arm clutching his bleeding one.

The plane took off, leaving a crowd of assassins behind. Bruce called Alfred on his communicator," Penny-One? Are you there?"

"I'm here Batman. What did you find at Nanda Parbat?" The crisp voice answered, seconds after Bruce spoke.

"I can't say much over the comm. unit. But, I'm on my way home." The plane shook, and the movement caused Bruce to hiss in pain, and he gripped his shoulder tighter as more blood flowed from it.

Alfred heard the hiss and responded with a concerned tone of voice," Batman? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He said stubbornly," See you soon." He pushed a button and the line clicked off.

 **Back in the BatCave**

The plane landed in the cave, and Bruce stormed out," Damn Ra's al Ghul! That son of a-"

"Master Bruce, watch your language!" Alfred said before the younger man could finish his sentence.

"I know, it's just-"His leg gave out and he stumbled to the floor with a cry, wounds he didn't know about now affecting him.

Alfred rushed over to his side," Bruce!" He put Bruce's good arm over his shoulder and helped him over to the table.

"I'm fine," He said, and shrugged Alfred's arm off," We need to worry about Ra's now."

"Your health comes first right now. Sit on the table then we can talk." Bruce reluctantly limped over and sat down while Alfred stripped his armor off and examined his body. His upper abdomen was an assortment of black and blue bruises, and his shoulder was bleeding profusely. One of his knees was swollen and was throbbing, but nothing hurt Bruce more than the fact that Ra's brought Jason back unnaturally, causing him to act 'insane'.

Alfred prodded at the sword wound, causing Bruce to stiffen up and groan," Alfred, I'm fine. I just need to be stitched up, and then we can start on finding Jason."

The old man went silent, then responded softly," Jason? He's… alive?" He stumbled backwards, his face white from shock.

"Oh God, Alfred. I didn't mean to spring it on you like that." Bruce said when he saw the look on Alfred's face. He put a hand over his face, and sighed deeply.

The armor that Alfred was holding fell to the floor with a bang, and he collapsed next to it. All colour drained from his already pale face, and he whispered," He's alive… Jason…"

"That's why I went to Nanda Parbat. Ra's has this 'Lazarus Pit' it's what keeps him alive, he dips himself in it and it rejuvenates him. But, for some twisted reason he put Jason's dead body into it and…. It brought him back to life. But," Bruce sighed," But he didn't come back like himself. He-he's… insane. That's what Ra's al Ghul said."

A tear rolled down Alfred's face, and he took a shuddering breath," Do you know where he is?"

"He- ahhh." Bruce clutched his hurt shoulder, as a wave of pain shot through him, doubling over in pain. All the wounds caught up with him, and his body shook as pain racked through him.

Alfred shakily stood up and leaned Bruce back onto the table," Bruce, it's okay. I'll get you fixed up in one moment, stay calm."

The fact that his son was alive again finally sunk in, and tears cascaded down Bruce's bruised and weary face. He couldn't tell whether he was relived Jason was alive, or crying because he was alive but insane. It was a mixture of both, but his confused mind could barely focus on anything at the moment.

"… Bruce?" Alfred said, holding a needle and wearing gloves.

He shook his head," Sorry, just drifted off there for a second."

Alfred dabbed at the wound on Bruce's shoulder with an alcohol soaked cotton ball," Now might not be the best time to talk about this, but we _have_ to talk."

"We have to find him." He said, determined.

"Yes, we do. But, you have to remember that whatever Jason is like _now_ is not your fault." Said Alfred, and started to insert the needle into Bruce's skin.

Bruce closed his eyes and tilted his head back, trying to ignore the feeling of the needle going in and out of his shoulder," But it is my fault. He died because of me, now he's insane because of me."

"It is not at all your fault, stop blaming yourself." The older man said, while finishing up the stitches.

"It is my fault! I'm the reason he's like this!" Bruce slammed a fist down onto the table, as emotional and physical pain tore through his beaten body.

Alfred's eyes widened in concern and he reached toward Bruce, in an attempt to calm him," Bruce, calm down. It's going to be okay, Jason will be fine."

"It's not okay!" The injured man pushed Alfred away, and jumped off the table, grabbing his Batman armor. He ran to his car, and got in, ignoring Alfred's shouts to come back. Hot, angry tears were streaking down his face as his car zoomed out of the cave, leaving behind Alfred, who fell to his knees in despair.

Bruce drove around aimlessly for hours, eventually stopping at the docks and got out, locking his car behind him. His shoulder throbbed and his whole body ached, but he pushed those feelings to the back of his mind and started walking. He didn't know where or why, but his legs just moved on their own accord. He came across a group of thugs, beating up a kid and ran faster. He didn't have any of his weapons, but it didn't matter to him right now. He needed to get his mind off his own pain.

"It's the bat! Get 'em boys!" The gang turned to him and he smiled a grim smile.

All the pain he felt when Jason died came flooding back but worse. His son was alive, but suffering, and again he was to blame.

Bruce's fist came into contact with a jaw, his knee into a stomach, his foot into a face. Over and over again, the faces blurring together, the shouts all sounding the same. The night seemed to go on forever, but time didn't mean anything to Bruce, he was on a rampage. He left every person unconscious for the police, and then found some other scum bags to inflict his rage upon.

It was around four am when Bruce started getting sloppy, his movements less controlled, and his legs unsteady. A knife skimmed his stomach, and a car tire caught his jaw. He stumbled away as his vision started to go dark. His shoulder was screaming in pain, and he was bleeding from multiple wounds.

He limped to the car and collapsed against it, panting frantically. Spots gathered across his sight, but he refused to call for help. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the armored vehicle, throwing himself inside it. Bruce's shoulder thudded painfully against the inside of the car, and he groaned out loud as he started the car. The car jolted to life and he started on the road home, his eyes tempting to close as his eyesight darkened.

The communication unit crackled," Bruce, please come home."

Bruce eyed the comm. and reached an arm out to turn it off. He heard Alfred say something before he turned it off, it sounded like a desperate plea. His heart throbbed, and a wave of guilt hit Bruce, he suddenly realized what happened. He had stormed off in a rage, when Alfred was just as upset as him.

The car managed to get in before Bruce passed out. His head lolling up against his seat, as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He heard Alfred call out, the concern in his voice evident. Then all was black, and Bruce was grateful for the lack of pain, emotional and physical.

The sound of rustling paper, and Alfred's quiet voice drew him out of his peaceful sleep. Bruce sat up with a jolt, his heart racing, only to be forced back down with strong hands.

"Shhh, Bruce. Its okay, you're okay. Lie still, you're injured." Alfred's soothing voice calmed him down.

He cracked his weary eyes open," Alfred… Oh God… Alfred I'm so sorry…" His voice rasped.

"It's fine," The old man said, offering a kind smile," Bruce, you had every right to get mad. But, what _isn't_ okay is going on a bloody rampage, and nearly getting yourself killed! Your shoulder was still wounded, and now you came back with a concussion, two broken ribs, a knife was dragged along your stomach and you have a broken ankle!" His kind smile transformed into a reprimanding frown.

Bruce winced," I just needed to get out."

"Next time you want to beat things senseless make sure you're not about to drop due to injuries. Now, enough of me berating you. Let's talk about Jason while I fix you up."

"Well the only thing that Ra's told me was that," He gritted his teeth in pain when Alfred started stitching his side," That he dove off a cliff and swam away. Into the _ocean_. We know nothing else about where he is right now. I think the closest lead we have is to look around the towns nearest to Nanda Parbat's ocean, we should start there."

Alfred applied pressure to Bruce's ribs, causing him to cry out in pain," Sorry Bruce, I didn't know how bad it was. When you get to feeling better, then I swear we will search the entire Earth to find Jason."

"Really?" Bruce asked, shocked how Alfred agreed so readily.

"I promise."


	3. Running

The man's body was miles behind Jason, as he stumbled to find the nearest town. The rocks cut into his bare feet, and his wet and threadbare clothes were providing no warmth from the piercing wind. His whole body screamed in pain with every step he took, and his lungs ached from the gasping breaths he was taking in. With shaking legs, he traveled for hours until he came across a town.

Jason's eyes glanced from building to building, his breath coming in short gasps as he panicked. He was terrified that he would snap again and… and… _kill someone._

A man walked out of a store and caught a glimpse of Jason," Hey! Boy?" There was a rough, foreign kind of tone to his voice.

Jason tried to take a step forward but his legs gave out and he fell to the ground, _hard._ His body had already been pushed to its limits, and this was the last he could handle. Darkness pressed down on his vision, and Jason succumbed to it; his body relaxed and all the pain faded away.

 ************Break************

Unfamiliar voices broke through the silence that Jason was clinging to, desperate to stay in the quiet darkness. He shifted his body, and a wave of pain rolled through him. His back bucked upward and strong hands shoved him back down.

"Now, calm." A voice spoke in broken English, as Jason opened his weary eyes.

He looked up to see a wrinkled old woman staring into his face," Where'm I?" He spoke sleepily.

The old lady turned around and spoke to somebody else in a different language, then turned to the confused boy," Safe. You are safe here."

Jason looked around and took in his surroundings. The walls and roof appeared to be made of aged wood, and he was laid on a straw bed. His sluggish mind put two and two together and deciphered that he was in some sort of barn.

He struggled to sit up, but the lady fiercely pushed him back down and said," Rest. Now."

When he was met with resistance his anger flared up. The uncontrollable rage filled him, and he lunged up toward the older woman with a scream. His hands wrapped around her neck and he squeezed, causing her hands to scrabble at her throat, desperate for air. Jason had forgotten that she had been talking to someone else until a fist slammed into his face. He was thrown off of the older women with a shout, and he quickly jumped up on shaky knees.

The two men screamed in their native language at Jason, then turned to the gasping women with concerned faces. Jason took this opportunity to slam a knee into the smaller one, and gave the taller one a swift uppercut. They fell to the floor, unconscious. The young man's mind was in a fury of blood lust, as he reached for a nearby piece of metal. His fingers curled around it and then he slammed in into the men's back, they screamed as their back's broke with a loud crack. Jason only paused for a second in shock at his own strength before returning to swinging the metal rod.

 _Slam_

 _Crack_

 _Snap_

 _Slam_

 _Slam_

 _Slam_

Over and over again he slammed the metal into the men and the lady, they stopped moving after a five hits, they stopped screaming at ten hits, and at twenty… they stopped breathing. Jason stepped back from the bloody bodies and looked from himself to the dead people he just murdered with an expressionless look on his face.

Suddenly, all the feeling flooded back into Jason. He let out a choked sob and collapsed to his knees, the bloody metal fell out of his hands and onto the hay besides him as his eyes skimmed over the horrific murder he just did.

There was a shout from behind him, and Jason spun around to face an old man who was wearing a shocked look on his white, pale face. Thankfully, Jason didn't feel the urge to kill him, only the primal rush of fear rushing through his veins. The man drew a gun from his pocket, and aimed it at the terrified boy. There was a loud crack, as the gun fired; Jason dodged it but not before it grazed his shoulder.

He took this opportunity to run toward his attacker, dodging the bullets and fists as he ran _past_ him. He kept running, and running and running. Throughout the town, leaving the way he didn't come, people shouted at him in a language he didn't understand as he ran by. His shaking legs carried him faster than he ever ran in his life, thinking that if he ran fast enough he could leave his sin behind.

Hate replaced his fear, hate for himself and what he's become. Jason couldn't bear the thought of facing Bruce after this; he couldn't even bear the thought of facing _anyone_. He was a monster, a murderer, he wasn't better than Joker or any other villain they had thought. While he ran, the pain faded away into nothingness, his mind focusing on nothing but his own guilt.

One mountain became two, and two became three as Jason ran aimlessly across the barren terrain. Eventually, a more modern looking town came into view, and his eyes widened. He didn't want to risk murdering someone again, but he had to find a place to lie low for a while, find some place to grab some cash. When the first building was near Jason paused and looked into the window, where a shock greeted him. One glance into the reflective surface gave Jason an idea on what he looked like. His jet black hair was long and dirty, and he realized that the clothes he was wearing were his old torn Robin outfit. His whole body was shaking from exhaustion and he had multiple cuts and bruises across his skin, causing every moment to send pain through him.

There was a man walking by and Jason slunk behind him, getting ready to swipe his wallet. This whole pattern was eerily familiar to before Bruce had taken him in, living on the streets, stealing people's hard earned money and living on the barest of means. Jason "accidently" bumped into the man while quickly slipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out a wallet, fat with money. He murmured a quiet apology and turned the other direction, a small, proud smile forming on his face at this miniscule victory.

A hotel style building was close by, and Jason started toward it. Anybody who passed by him shot him a disgusted look, one he was very much used to getting thrown his way when he prowled the streets. The money was foreign and so were the people, but Jason never paid attention in school so he couldn't identify where he was. When he got into the hotel, he pulled out a thick wad of cash and placed it on the counter, and accepted the key to his room.

Jason didn't know what he was expecting to find, but this certainly was one of the worst hotels he had ever had the misfortune to stay in. The bed sheets were discoloured and messy, and bugs crawled across the floor in a hurry to get away from the approaching human feet. He took two steps before his legs gave out and he fell against the bed with a heavy thud. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as his body sunk into the bed and sleep over took all other senses.

 ************The next morning************

A loud thundering noise tore Jason from his fitful sleep. He jolted awake and put a hand on his stomach, immediately recognizing where the noise came from. Jason would have given anything to have a home cooked meal from Alfred, but the thought of his family made his soul feel heavier.

He swung his feet off of the bed and stood up with a groan, every muscle in his body aching. Jason's hand reached towards the wallet and pulled some paper money from it, and started walking out the door, firmly locking it behind him. The man at the hotel counter pointed Jason toward a store where goods could be purchased, and the young man walked over to it. When he pushed the doors open a bell rang, alerting everybody of his presence. All costumers turned and gave him a look that inferred that he was trash, and Jason struggled to control his rage.

 _Keep it in check. Don't kill anyone else._ He thought, chastising himself.

It took a few tries, but eventually Jason found some things that looked like Spam, bread and crackers. He had no idea what any of the papers were worth, so he shoved a few down next to the cashier who gave him a dubious look. On his way out he nicked a phone out of a women's purse and hurried back to his trash hotel, supplies in his hands.

He sat down on his bed, and dumped all the food onto it. With a pang of hunger, he ripped open the can of processed meat and ate it with his hands. Jason's shaking fingers scooped the meat into his mouth, as he devoured every morsel of the fake meat. He paused, only to take a bite from the bread then continued to ravenously eat. When his stomach could hold no more he took a deep sigh of satisfaction.

Jason suddenly remembered that he had stolen the mobile phone and reached for it. He clicked it on and looked at the bright screen, glad to find that it wasn't password protected. With a tap of his finger he selected the Google icon and logged into his account. He was two minutes into his researching when he remembered something with a shock; Bruce could see when he logged on. Jason threw the phone to the floor and slammed his foot into it repetitively. With a satisfied crunch, the phone broke and Jason was safe from Bruce's prying eyes once more.

He gathered his supplies, and left the hotel at a run.

And kept running.

Jason ran and he ran and he ran.

No destination in mind.

He just _ran._

 **Ooooooh boi. I'm really proud of this chapter and idk why. I'd like to thank the three guests and Leradomi who left a review on the previous chapter. It means a lot when people take the time to write a review! And the three people who favourited and followed: Thank you too! Okay, that's it. BUH-BYE!**

 **(Edit: I recently posted the wrong chapter to this story, and if you read my Thanks Alfred story then you will see that I somehow posted the one with Dick Grayson (?) I have no idea how, but there were two of those one labeled thanks alfred chap and one labeled Revived but somehow they both were the TA chapter. Thank you to the guest who reviewed and made me see what the matter was. I'm so glad I caught this now, rather than when I was at school. I'm sorry for the confusion, this has been super embarrassing but it's over now! SORRY)**


	4. Older Brother

Dick had been working out at a gym for an hour when he stopped to take a drink from his water jug. As he drank he took a glance at his phone, which was telling him that he had a message. When Dick looked at the message he almost choked on the liquid he was drinking. The text was from Bruce, and it cryptically said:

 _BatCave. NOW._

The reason he was so surprised was that Bruce never texts him so short messages, especially ones that are so concerning. Dick threw his towel around his sweaty neck and left the gym heading for his car.

On the short ride to the cave Dick contemplated what the words could mean. He doubted that it was anything life threatening, but it was still worrying him that Bruce needed him at the cave so urgently. The familiar scenery zoomed by as the young man pushed the speed limit, his concern growing.

 **************Wayne Manor**************

"Hello?"

When no one answered Dick's voice and his frantic knocks, he pulled out his key and unlocked the heavy door. He started to run over to the grandfather clock, but years of living inside this house and hearing Alfred's reprimands caused him to change his run, to a walk. When he opened the secret entrance to the BatCave, Dick was shocked to be greeted by silence from below. He quietly walked down the stair, reminding himself that this could be a trap, and kept his eyes and ears peeled.

Alfred's voice called out," Richard? Is that you?"

Dick sighed in relief and turned around the corner at a brisk pace," Yeah, it's me."

Bruce was laying on the medical table, but when he heard his son's concerned voice he sat up, wincing in pain," Dick. Glad you got here so fast. Did I interrupt something?" He asked when he saw Dick's sweat soaked gym shorts and T-shirt.

"Nah, I was just working out." The young man said, while his eyes ran over Bruce's beaten body," What happened to you? Are you okay?" He walked over to his father's side, one eyebrow raised.

With his shirt taken off and bandages all over his body, Bruce looked beyond tired. The last time he had looked like this was when…

"I'm fine." Alfred shot him a glare, and Bruce restarted his sentence," I went to Nanda Parbat."

"Why?!" Dick exclaimed, he knew how dangerous the home of the assassins could be first hand.

Alfred wearily put a hand on Dick's shoulder, a grimace on his old face," Richard… this might be hard for you to understand but…"

"Jason's alive." Said Bruce, finishing his butler's sentence.

"WHAT?! How?" Dick stumbled backwards, shock clearly etched on his face. He sat down on the cold cave and put his head into his hands, feeling all the pain of Jason's death come flooding back.

Bruce and Alfred both sighed at Dick's reaction and Bruce spoke first to break the silence," Dickie, it's going to be okay. Come here." He lightly tapped on the metal table he was sitting on. Dick shakily stood up and sat down next to his father. He leaned his head onto Bruce's shoulder, feeling like a little child again as Bruce rubbed small circles on his back.

"Shhh… it's going to be okay. Jason's alive and we will find him. We will bring him home and everything will be fine." Bruce groaned slightly as his son sunk his weight onto his injured body. Dick's shoulders shook with silent sobs.

 _His little brother was alive._

 _Jay is alive!_

Bruce felt slightly guilty when he didn't mention that Jason isn't okay. Jason is defiantly not okay.

"So," Dick said, after clearing his voice," I have _so_ many questions, but my biggest one is: How? _How_ is Jason alive?"

"Ra's al Ghul, he has this pi-"A hiss of pain escaped Bruce's lips as Dick shifted his body. His shoulder wound still throbbed and his whole body still hurt.

Dick jumped off of Bruce with a jolt," I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's fine. So let's continue, Ra's as Ghul has this pit that rejuvenates his body, it's how he stays alive so long. But for some _sick_ reason, he got a hold on Jason's body and put him in it. Now he's alive." Alfred looked at Bruce with a threatening look. He wanted him to tell Dick about Jason's current mental stability, but Bruce didn't know if Dick could handle the knowledge that his baby brother isn't sane at the moment.

The former Boy Wonder was running the new information through his quick mind, confused on how being brought back from the dead is possible, when there was an alert from the computer.

"Jason's online!" Bruce shouted, and jumped off the table. But as soon as his feet hit the floor, he gasped and doubled over in pain. His hand clutched his shoulder, blooding seeping through his fingers.

Alfred immediately rushed to the floor next to him," You pulled the stitches out, Bruce. Stay still for one moment so I can see."

"Sorry," Bruce breathed out," Got over excited." He said through gritted teeth while his son watched over, concerned.

When Alfred moved Bruce's hand away from the wound blood gushed out and the injured man went chalk white.

"Richard, help me get him back on the table." Said Alfred.

Dick cautiously wrapped an arm around Bruce's side, and heaved him upward with Alfred on the other side. Every movement caused Bruce to stiffen up and groan in pain, but eventually they managed to get him back on the table.

Alfred moved to examine the pulled stitches closer, but Bruce pushed his hand away," Check on the computer first. Jason comes first."

"If you insist." The old man sighed, before he and Dick moved to the computer, glancing back at Bruce's tense form.

Dick's eyes scanned the huge computer and he eventually spotted where the alert was coming from," It says that Jason had logged onto his account for a solid minute before the source went dead."

"Where did the ping come from?" Bruce questioned, still on the table.

This time it was Alfred who spoke up," It's in an area called Khafji, which is located in Saudi Arabia."

"How the _hell_ did Jason get there?"

Dick looked just as puzzled as Bruce was and turned to Alfred," Alfie, that's miles away from Nanda Parbat! He would have had to swim through a small _ocean_ to get there!"

The old man sighed," There is something that Bruce didn't tell you about Jason."

"No, Alfred. He doesn't need to know." Bruce said his previously shaky voice now strong.

Dick scoffed," Bruce, I'm not twelve anymore. I deserve to know what happened!"

"No! It's-"Bruce was cut off by a violent coughing fit, which left him gasping for breath and hugging his chest.

Alfred left the computer and hurried over to the coughing man," Breathe, Bruce. Don't over exert yourself, shhh."

When the hacking, coughing bought subsided Bruce was left pale and shaky. Dick knew that he was hurting in more ways than just physical right now, so he didn't press for more information; but intended on doing so when Bruce was feeling better.

"Alfred, what's wrong with Bruce? Physically, I mean." Questioned Dick, as he sat down next to the injured man.

With his arms crossed, Alfred said curtly," Master Bruce found out this information at Nanda Parbat, from the Ra's himself. But, when he tried to leave an assassin's blade stabbed his shoulder. Then, when he got home he left in a temper tantrum and went on a villain-busting spree. He came back injured, and nearly unconscious, he's been unsteady like this since."

"I'm sorry Bruce. I didn't mean to upset you, I just think I should be told what happened to my own brother." Dick apologized, a concerned look on his young face.

"It's okay. You're right, you _do_ deserve to know. But not right now, I want to be able to tell you myself." Bruce rasped his voice scratchy.

Dick nodded, and closed his eyes. His clothes were still damp from sweat and now were becoming cold and uncomfortable, so he excused himself to go change.

While he was getting into new (and clean) clothes, Dick ran the new information through his mind. He had barely grasped the idea that people could be brought back from the dead, but by the way Alfred and Bruce reacted, something obviously wasn't right about it.

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. _At least Jason's alive. I don't care what's wrong with him; it has to be better than him being dead._ Dick tried to think optimistically, forcing his mind away from the depressing things like: Bruce's health, Jason's health and the fact they had no clue on how to even find his little brother.

The bed in his old room seemed so welcoming, and Dick couldn't resist flopping down on it like he used to do when he was younger. As soon as his head hit the pillow though, he was out like a light. Forgetting all the day's struggles and problems, Dick fell into a deep sleep.

 **I literally want to curl up a ball of shame right now. For those who didn't read it in time, I posted the wrong chapter for last chapter. LUCKILY I caught it before I went to school (I am still super thankful to that one Guest who told me) and was able to fix it. And by the way, for all my new readers, I try to put a few chapters in the story that don't just focus on the main character. So that's why chapter 2 and this chapter are talking about how the rest of the Bat Family is reacting. Okay, that's all. BUH-BYE!**


	5. Kindness

**I am so sorry that it's been over a month since I updated this story! I try to update all my stories equally (yeah not going too well) and I have to get animation done, and I have to do art and school and the list goes on. I hope you understand! Anyways, let's get riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight into the story! (news, I'm your host, Killer Keemstar here.)**

 **(There is a self harm trigger warning in this chapter. It starts after the line "Everything was replaced with the rage" and ends with "Jason bit back a scream as he felt the break in his hands")**

"You buy new carpet? You need carpet!"

"Best jewelry!"

"Fresh fish! Come get fresh fish!"

Jason ignored the shouts of people selling goods and kept his head down as he approached the streets. He was trying not to draw attention to himself; a pale, skinny boy with blood stains on his stolen rags. With hands balled into fists at his side, he swiftly walked through the streets of some city in Saudi Arabia. Any hope of communication with the locals was near impossible considering he didn't speak Arabic. Besides, he had other things to worry about. There was no plan in Jason's mind, only the desire to keep moving. If he stayed in one place too long, Bruce could track him. That _couldn't_ happen.

Suddenly, a calloused hand gripped his wrist and Jason quickly drew back from it with a growl low in his throat. He wrenched his arm away from the unidentified person's grasp and looked up. A kind looking man with deep brown eyes took a step back, but his face wore a small smile. Jason swung his head to the left and prepared to bolt away from the man, but the delicious smell of cooking bread made him pause. With a smile still on his face, the man gestured to the small stand behind him and smiled even wider. He spoke something in Arabic and Jason slowly shook his head, he couldn't understand a word that was being spoken to him.

When the man saw that Jason didn't speak Arabic, he spoke in broken English," You… food?"

At the mention of food, Jason's stomach growled loudly. An annoying voice in the back of his head was reminding him that the last people he was around ended up dead. Dead at his hands. But the scent of the bread was too enticing. Against his better judgment, he nodded his head sharply and followed the man into the stand. Jason's eyes darted around as he slowly walked into the enclosed space; it appeared to be some kind of bakery. Before fully entering the shop he glanced back at the opening he entered through and made sure that he would be able to get out if needed.

The sound of the kind looking man's voice caused him to face forward. A younger man that appeared to be in his late 20's came out from behind a curtain at the sound of the older man's voice. He responded quickly in his native tongue, staring at Jason and then the other man with a confused look on his face. When Jason felt the pressing eyes of the man on him he stopped fidgeting and stood stock still. A surge of anger rose up in his chest when he saw the contempt in the man's face and he struggled to keep it down, he did not want his hands to be the cause of anymore deaths.

"Boy." The word was spoken harshly from the younger man's mouth and Jason fought the urge to retort back rudely. He looked up to see the man nodding toward his elder.

"Come." This time the older, kinder man spoke. He waved his large hands in his direction in a way that conveyed for Jason to come closer to him. Jason anxiously took a step forward, and was startled when the man opened a clay oven and pulled out a loaf of bread. It was golden and had seeds sprinkled on the top of it, and the smell that wafted toward him when the man opened the oven caused Jason's knees to go weak.

The old man set the bread down on a crudely crafted wooden table and Jason walked quickly over to it. He fell to his knees and tore into the loaf of bread with his fingers, his mouth watering as he ferociously ate. His weary mind barely registered the sound of hearty laughter and light conversation behind him as he dug into the gifted food. Crumbs were spilling over his lap and his chapped lips stung as they came in contact with the bread, but the small annoyances did not put Jason off.

When it felt like he could stomach no more, he looked at the now small loaf and leaned back. A sigh escaped from his lips and he felt calmer than he ever had since being revived.

The older man sat down in front of Jason, and spoke slowly," Farren." He pointed to himself, then to the younger man," Ahmed."

Jason nodded, but stopped when he saw that the men were waiting for him to introduce himself. He considered giving a fake name, but decided he owed them at least his real name. "Jason." His voice was scratchy and quiet, almost completely gone from lack of water. It shocked him how much his voice had changed; it was now low and rough. He didn't sound young anymore.

Farren smiled yet again and even Ahmed seemed satisfied that Jason spoke. The silence grew uncomfortable and he looked back down at the bread with a newfound hunger. With cautious fingers, he reached back for more food. Seconds later the bread loaf was gone, leaving only a few crumbs behind. The pause in conversation was broken by a giggle that caused Jason to jump up, adrenaline racing through his veins again.

A small girl wearing a light green hijab peeked out from behind a curtain; she had a curious look on her young face as she gazed at Jason. When he saw that she was staring at him he clenched his fists under the table, he could _feel_ the desire to go bat shit crazy rising up inside of him. He mentally willed it to go away, willed it to hold off until he got away from these kind people. The young child, oblivious to Jason's inner turmoil, raised a small hand and gave a tiny wave. He didn't trust himself to open his hands to wave back in response; instead he just nodded slightly and tried to make his face appear less hostile. Farren noticed his confusion and turned to the girl, talking in rapid fire Arabic.

Ahmed kept a firm watch on Jason, rarely ever blinking. As Jason watched the older man converse with the young child and shoo her back to wherever she came from, he felt a homesick pang in his chest. With a scowl he focused on driving it away, he couldn't go back home because he didn't have a home anymore. He was a monster. A murderer.

"Jason." His name sounded foreign and awkward in Farren's thick accent and it caused a shiver to go down his spine. It felt like forever ago that someone had actually called him that.

He got to his feet and gazed longingly back at where the bread used to be before looking at the man. Immediately, a pair of old leather sandals were thrust into Jason's arms, along with a satchel made of similar leather. Farren's face was smiling sympathetically at him as Jason wrapped his fingers around the gifts, bewilderment evident on his face as he looked from the objects to the man. Farren nodded when he saw Jason's hesitation and prompted him to sit down. He did as he was told, and took a seat on the sandy floor, displaying the gifts out in front of him.

The sandals, despite being too big, were adjustable and Jason was able to slide them onto his beaten feet. The leather was well worn and battered from years of use, but it held together fine. The satchel seemed to be crafted from the same hide and it too was weathered. But, inside was what shocked Jason. The bag held two loaves of bread, neatly wrapped in paper, and three different kinds of circular exotic fruit. His mind reeled; the family had gotten together a bag of food and sandals for a stranger like him. A smile was forming on his face, the first real smile since before he died, and he stood up with the new shoes on.

Farren and Ahmed were looking at him as he got to his feet and tested out the shoes. His feet welcomed the protection from the rough ground and the sores were not as painful as before. Jason carefully slung the bag of food over his left shoulder and looked up at the men. Without warning, Farren strode forward and wrapped his long arms around Jason's thin body. He tensed up with surprise and did not return the embrace. It was too familiar, too nice. It reminded him of whenever he got back from a particularly tough mission and Alfred would hug him.

Alfred.

Mission.

Robin.

Batman.

…Bruce…

Jason abruptly stepped backwards, wrenching himself away from the man's kind embrace. His face hardened into a mask of fury and he barely had the control to push himself through the opening of the stand. He heard Farren shout at Ahmed, maybe it was a call to chase after Jason, and maybe it wasn't. He didn't care. The people in the street yelled curses at him as he elbowed his way through the thick crowd. He needed to get away from them; he couldn't bear the thought of hurting more innocent people.

The faces began to blur together as he picked up speed, the sandals were certainly helpful when it came to running over rocks and broken objects. Irritated shouts turned to angry yells as more and more bystanders were disturbed by Jason hurtling himself through the masses of people. A siren was sounding now; Jason could hear the annoying whine of the loud horns. It was getting closer, how it was getting through the crowds of people was a mystery. But one that he couldn't dwell on, the only clear thought in his mind was to run away. Run for the sake of these people.

It seemed like forever before Jason got away from the sea of people and found a quiet spot. His head was down and he didn't even notice that the sounds of people had faded away into the quiet Arabian night, until he almost ran headfirst into a pole. His feet skidded to a stop in front it and despite the running, he still felt the rage. The rage that was like a fire burning inside of him, consuming all other thoughts and needs. Everything was replaced with the rage.

His fist slammed into the pole with enough force to break a normal person's fingers. Instead, it just caused his hand to throb with pain. Pain, not just rage now. Pain was there too.

 _Slam._

 _Slam._

 _Slam._

Blood trickled down his closed fist as he pounded the pole over and over again. The fog in his mind was beginning to clear as pain cut through it like a knife.

 _Slam._

 _Slam-crack!_

Two of his fingers emitted a loud cracking noise after they hit the metal pole. Jason bit back a scream as he felt the break in his hand. He collapsed against the now bloody pole, and cradled his fist close to his chest as tears cascaded down his face. The pain in his hand was not near as bad as the pain in his heart was. He was trying to deny the fact that he missed Bruce and his family, but whenever he thought about how they might welcome him back, the image of him murdering, replaced their happy faces.

After his tears dried, Jason took an unsteady breath in. His mind was clearing and his stomach was growling again. With the hand that wasn't injured, he reached toward his fallen satchel. It took him a few tries before he was able to undo the strap, but eventually he got it.

The smell of fruit and bread wafted upward and Jason sighed shakily as he reached for the bread. His teeth sunk into the crust and he remembered the kind look on Farren's face as he gave the food to him. The look of pure, undamaged joy on the young child's face. Ahmed's fierce, but protective nature toward his family. They were so trusting toward Jason, so ignorant to Jason's struggle. He was glad that he got away from them without doing anymore damage. He didn't think he could bear the look on their faces if they saw how dangerous he was.

If only they knew…

 **I really need to eat something. All this talk about bread makes me hungry. Sorry about how short this is, my brain felt like it went through the toaster (bread puns, I'm on a** _ **roll**_ **.) I seriously could not brain today, but I forced myself to write. School starts tomorrow, and I just** _ **can't wait**_ **(sarcasm) to jump back into the fire of stress and worry. Don't you just love the school system? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, feel free to leave a review or even drop a favourite or a follow. There is so much more to come!**


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